Trust In Deceit
by Silverstar
Summary: It wasn't that Arthur didn't believe Merlin. It was more that he had only ever seen magic used for evil, and a lifetime of brainwashing from Uther wasn't about to fade overnight. How was he supposed to change his views for one man, especially when he had seen Merlin use his magic for bad as well?


_**Despite my love for this fandom, somehow I still hadn't written a magic reveal, so here we go.**_ **_Many thanks as ever to my beta-reader, who struggled through sleep deprivation to get this checked in time for me to publish today! You're awesome R._**

* * *

"This is a colossal waste of time."

Arthur closed his eyes, heaving a deep sigh, and tried to persuade himself to spare his knight's life. Excalibur was within an arm's distance, and it would be all too easy to knock Gwaine out and return to the relative peace of before. The wind danced across the table, scattering papers and Arthur's spare shirt. In the distance there came the chimes of swords clashing against one another and exhilarated shouts as the knights continued their practise in the nearest meadow.

"Really." Gwaine hummed a folk tune under his breath. His fingers tapped against the framework of his shield where it lay in the grass beside his feet. He had discarded his boots several minutes before and Arthur was thankful for the array of wildflowers that surrounded them. "Completely pointless, if you ask me."

"It's a good thing no-one did, then."

Gwaine clasped a hand to his chest, flopping onto his back with exaggeration whines of agony. "Ah, Arthur, you wound me."

Arthur tossed one of the parchments at him. "Get up."

Gwaine squinted up at the sun streaking golden rays across the sky above them. It was a clear day, and even without their armour on the heat was intense, their shirts clinging to their backs with perspiration, and palms sticky against the overgrown grass. When no further reply came, Arthur stole a glance across at his companion. It appeared as though the other man was asleep, dark lashes pressed tightly to lightly tanned skin and hair falling softly across his features, ruffled in the slight breeze. Arthur shook his head in fond exasperation and returned his attention to collecting up the papers he was supposed to be working on.

The exercise was a new standard procedure that Leon and Arthur had been working on for some months. While the knights practised their skills on low-lying land, Arthur and another of the Knights of the Round Table would take the positions of bandits, careering onto the field in a surprise attack without warning. It was to test the knights' response times; an important assessment of Camelot's defences.

They had been waiting in their hidden field for most of the day, and Arthur could understand that all-action-no-rest Gwaine was getting bored, but he knew from experience that the longer the knights were left alone, the more complacent they grew. He had made up his mind to storm the field shortly before sundown, which gave him the opportunity to look over some of the papers detailing Camelot's recently added trade links.

"Getting bored, are we?"

Arthur didn't jolt at the sudden voice. He let the scroll fall back to the dust-packed ground and sighed, closing his eyes and watching the patterns drawn by the light across his lids. A cricket chirped somewhere to his left, accompanied by the rustling of parted grass before a sudden weight thudded down next to him. He opened one eye, met with his manservant's cheerful grin.

"Shouldn't you be back in Camelot?"

"And let you have all the fun?" Merlin retorted, settling his hands on his stomach. "Never." He observed the dappled patterns thrown by the trees across the grass. "How are you finding the traders?"

"Boring," Arthur replied shortly. Merlin gave an undignified snort, whacking a hand against the king's shoulder.

"_Arthur_," he chided. "You can't ignore your problems until they go away."

"Why not? Works well enough for you." Merlin frowned at him. "Oh, alright, it works well for Gwaine then."

"Better." Merlin rolled onto his front, propping his chin up with one hand. His legs dangled in the air, wildflowers dancing against his trousers. A small dust-moth settled on his shoe and Arthur was struck with how peaceful he seemed, eyes partially closed in the warm sunglow, and mouth curved by a smile. "You're staring at me."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes."

"Not really."

"Oh, you definitely are, mate," Gwaine chimed in. Merlin threw a leaf at him and the knight gave a deep chuckle, dropping an arm across his face to shield his eyes from the sun. There was a pause, the silence broken only by the chirps of grasshoppers and swallows soaring through the skies above. When Gwaine appeared to have returned to his slumber, Arthur spoke again.

"You seem different recently."

Merlin raised a brow. Arthur was struck by how similar the expression was to Gaius'. "Do I?"

"Hmm. More secretive."

Merlin laughed, a light blush settling across his face. The hot summer months had drawn out his freckles, tiny galaxies dusted across his features that crinkled when he smiled. Arthur was forever fascinated by the people around him, and Merlin was no exception.

"Maybe I have a girl."

Arthur considered this. "No. You'd have told me."

"Alright, so I don't have a girl."

A butterfly chased through the daisies and they paused in their conversation to watch it. "Merlin."

Merlin tilted his head to meet Arthur's look, amusement playing across his face. "Arthur," he returned.

"Tell me."

Merlin sighed, light breath swaying the flower heads in front of him. There was a heavy wisdom about him, almost ethereal in appearance, which had cast a shadow over the man for many seasons now. Arthur wanted to shake him, beg him to confide what was causing such suffering, but Merlin was a mystery who kept his cards close to his chest when he truly wanted to.

"It may surprise you, but I think I will."

Arthur blinked. "Really?"

"Yes." Merlin ducked his head. "I mean, I don't…." He took a breath. "I'm not ready yet."

"Are you scared?"

"Of you, no. Of the consequences of your reaction, yes."

Arthur balked. "You're talking in riddles."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Merlin chuckled to himself.

The warm hum of the afternoon air was broken in two by a piercing shriek and the clashing metal. A war cry careered along the wind, signalling the unmistakable sounds of battle.

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a knowing look.

"Tell me you had other men waiting to surprise them?" Arthur shook his head. "No, of course you didn't. When is it ever that simple?"

"Merlin, shut up." Arthur drew his sword, kicking at Gwaine's back. "Gwaine, on your feet."

Gwaine startled awake, vaulting onto his feet within a second. If he were a cat then Merlin imagined his fur would have been bristling, his eyes bleary with sleep but instincts instantly on edge. Gwaine tilted his head, catching the distinctive sound of fatal fighting and spun to face Arthur, flicking his sword from the ground to his hands with a single twitch of his foot, sliding into his boots and jolting into a run in one fluid movement. Years of barfights had made the moves instinctive, as much a part of the knight as another limb.

With a nod to Gwaine, Arthur took off sprinting, discarding the papers in the field. They were not of importance, not when he had a possible threat to his kingdom to deal with, but especially because those were his men in trouble, many of whom he had trained and fought alongside.

The training field was awash with clashing swords and enraged cries as the Camelot knights threw themselves at their assailants with barely restrained fury. At the head of the clearing Leon was clearly identifiable, his cloak whipping about his heels as he spun, jabbing and defending with well-practised ease. Lancelot was at his side, his movements quick and rapid but his cape missing, his shield also looking worse for wear. His fighting appeared like a dance, light on his feet but deadly in accuracy. When he caught sight of Arthur and Gwaine plunging into the fray his face lit up with relief, and shouts ignited along the field: "The King is here!"

Merlin skidded to a halt along the tree-line. While he had his magic, he couldn't very well use in the thick of battle alongside the Camelot forces, especially given Arthur was close-by. Instead he started to hunt for a spare sword, determined to pick off some of the strangers along the outside.

"Leon!" Arthur turned and slid his sword through the pelvis of one of the intruders, blocking a harsh blow from another. "Who are they?"

"As far as I can tell," the older knight shouted back breathlessly, "bandits!"

"What?" Arthur dived for Lancelot, cutting down a man who had been aiming for the knight's back. With a nod, Lancelot careered back into the fray, Gwaine side-stepping to let him past and smashing his sword across the back of a second bandit's neck.

"Try walkin' that one off!"

Arthur fought the urge to roll his eyes. Here they were in the thick of battle and Gwaine was treating it like a bog-standard bar brawl. '_I like those odds_' indeed. The king tilted back onto his heels, swiping the bandit's legs out from under him and slicing down with his sword towards the man's unprotected chest.

"Well, well, well," Gwaine's voice called above the confusion. "You wanted bandits! Looks like you've got them."

Leon gave a wry chuckle, dispatching another bandit. "Yes, that's _hilarious_ Gwaine," Arthur retorted sarcastically, blocking another wild swing towards his ribs.

Gwaine gave a wicked laugh. "Now c'mon lads," he announced breathlessly, chest heaving as he threw himself headfirst into the next fight. "At least try and make it interesting. This is just _embarrassing_."

Next to Arthur, Leon shook his head, quiet amusement glimmering in his gaze along with something darker as he took out another attacker. Even fending off attacks from every side, Gwaine was still talking sass. It had to be admired. Leon suspected that wherever Percival was, the other knight would hear about it and be appreciative.

Across the field, it was becoming increasingly obvious that the supposed bandits had received significant training from somewhere. While the Camelot forces struck a strong defensive, the attackers were steadily gaining ground and after a long day of training the army were already exhausted. Merlin wielded his sword, sending bandits sprawling to meet their fates at the ends of other blades with flashes of golden irises whenever no-one was looking.

A nagging feeling at the back of his mind had him double-backing towards the centre of the field, breath coming in harsh pants as the sense of urgency increased. He scrambled into the thick of the fighting to catch sight of Arthur, cornered by five of the bandits at once and it was only then that the realisation suddenly dawned on him. The crackling energy in the air was not a developing storm like Merlin had suspected, but rather powerful magic.

A tall bandit dropped his cloak from his head, revealing icy gold eyes, lips curled in an ugly sneer as hatred-drenched words of the old language spat from his jaws. Merlin recognised it as dark magic, incredibly powerful and fatal to the finest degree. With a growing sense of panic, Merlin followed the sorcerer's line of sight to spot Arthur, forced to his knees and struggling to block the blows raining down on him. Lancelot was struggling to reach him, voice raised in a furious shout, but to no avail.

There was no-one left to save him, and Merlin knew well enough that he was not fast enough to reach the king in time. Arthur looked up and locked eyes with him, a silent apology ringing in his face as the sorcerer's spell crashed towards him.

Merlin reacted instinctively, throwing his hand up, eyes flashing molten gold as he sent a wave of magic surging towards the sorcerer. The man gave a growl, pouring further magic into his spell and Merlin threw up a shield, forming a protective wall around Arthur. He couldn't bring himself to look at the king, instead drawing forth his magic, broiling and leaping at his essence in a fierce determination to protect and save. Flames rose up along the ranks of the bandits, Camelot knights rearing back in shock as the shrieks of agony lit up the air.

"Leave now. I won't ask again."

"You think you can defeat me?" The sorcerer's voice rose in venomous fury. "You, a mere boy?"

Merlin raised his hands, eyes glowing a fierce gold and sparks dancing about his fingertips. "You're wrong," he replied, stalking closer and forcing his magic in a sweeping wave, crashing into the bandits. The men were sent hurtling through the air, smashing into the blood-soaked earth of the field, fatal snaps sounding as they landed heavily.

"Who are you?" The sorcerer's voice was tainted with a soul-deep terror.

Merlin gave a dark smile, "I'm Emrys," and _let go_ in a torrent of raw power. He rarely gave in to the pure, instinctive magic, but he was blinded in a sea of rage. How dare these bandits hurt his friends, his family, with a power they could not begin to comprehend. When he came to his senses, he was panting, hands trembling with sheer energy and he slowly lowered them to his sides. A brief whisper to the sky had soft rain fluttering across the flames, before the clouds dispersed, and the field was left in a brutal, ugly silence.

Terror crashed down on him in a storm of overwhelming panic. He could barely breathe, tearing at his neckerchief and choking on his breath, eyes burning with tears as he felt burning gazes piercing his back. Warm hands gripped his wrists, lifting them gently away from his face, and tugging him against a firm chest.

"Breathe, Merlin."

Merlin took a shuddering breath. Lancelot kept a hand on his shoulder, expression dark and protective, his sword at the ready. After a moment's hesitation Gwaine also darted across the field to join him, standing at Merlin's other side. His choice had been made – he stood with Merlin. For while the two were fiercely loyal to Arthur, their true friendships had been forged with the trembling warlock between them.

Merlin raised his head, surveying the fearful expressions of the men surrounding him. Leon had a hand on his sword, expression unidentifiable, but Elyan had backed away, Percival uncertainly directing his own blade towards the servant. By far the worst was Arthur, who remained on his knees, looking as though his entire world had been destroyed in front of his very eyes.

"You're a sorcerer."

"I…Warlock."

"What difference does that make?" Arthur roared, raising to his feet and storming across the ruined earth.

"It means I was born with it! I never asked for this, but all of it, every time, Arthur, it's only ever for you. I've only ever used it to protect you."

"No. No, you didn't protect me. You _lied_ to me! All these years, _betraying_ me before my very eyes. Was any of this real?"

"I never betrayed you! I would rather die!"

"Do you know what the punishment for the crime of sorcery is?"

Merlin let out a choked sob. "Arthur." He sank to his knees, blood staining his trousers and hands, shoulders trembling with the effort of maintaining control.

"Say something!" Arthur's voice shattered the stillness, breaking along with his soul as he looked at his closest friend as if for the first time. "_Defend _yourself. Use it! Use your magic!" He grabbed a handful of Merlin's shirt, dragging him to his feet. They were nose to nose, Arthur shaking with pure anger and betrayal, and Merlin trembling with tears. "_Hurt_ me!"

"No, no I could never."

"You already have! You _betrayed _me!"

"I live to serve and protect you."

"For once in your life, stop _lying_ to me!" Arthur closed his eyes, forcing back tears. "I have to kill you, Merlin. You are a traitor to the crown."

Gwaine went to lunge forwards, but Lancelot caught his arm.

"Why won't you _run_?" Arthur sank forwards, catching at Merlin's shoulder. "Please, Merlin, _go_."

"No." Merlin held his head high, meeting the king's gaze without doubt. "If you wish to kill me, then go ahead, but I would never abandon you Arthur, _never_. You are the Once and Future King, and I am proud to call you my king." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And my friend."

Arthur gave an agonised yell, plunging his sword into the ground next to Merlin's feet. The warlock flinched at the action and Lancelot settled a hand on his shoulder. Gwaine padded forwards, a warm and protective bulk at his side.

"Sir Leon," Arthur spoke, voice level and emotionless as if he hadn't just discovered his closest friend committing treason against him. "Send for Gaius and ensure everyone's safe return to Camelot. Organise a patrol to check this area for further bandits. I will return soon."

"Arthur!" Merlin startled, as if waking from a dream, stumbling across the field to try to reach the king, but the older man had climbed onto a horse, disappearing into the distance. He turned to find the rest of the army eyeing him with clear distrust and swallowed nervously, backing away.

"Merlin." Gwaine's voice was uncharacteristically serious. He offered his friend a brief smile. "Let's go home."

Merlin didn't have the heart or the energy to tell Gwaine that he wasn't so sure where home was anymore.

* * *

Arthur returned to Camelot in the very early hours of the morning, when it was so dark that even the moon's light could not penetrate the canopy of the forest. His horse's flanks heaved beneath his heels and he led the mare into a stable with a fond pat to her muzzle. The night guards had evidently heard about the earlier battle and didn't question him as he strolled through the gates and up the stairs.

He found himself in the throne room, kneeling in front of the throne where his father had sat for so many years. While Uther had been a powerful and mostly unchallenged ruler, he had been unjust and at times plain cruel – Arthur could recall suffering at the hands of his father's wrath even as a young boy. He traced the grooves in the wood where the king's hands had rested and lowered his head.

Was he a better ruler? He was trying so hard to be a good king, and yet he hadn't even recognised Merlin was a sorcerer – warlock, he corrected himself, because apparently that made a difference – despite almost a decade of friendship.

"Arthur."

He tensed. "I'd like to be alone."

"I'm afraid that I advise against that, sire."

Arthur spun around, eyes wide and pleading. "Did you know?" There was silence. "Gaius. Did you know?" He spat out each word as though it were poison and for the first time Arthur could remember, the elderly physician flinched.

"Yes. I did know." Gaius took a step forward. "I also know that Merlin is an exceptional young man, who, despite all the burdens that have been placed on him and the constant threat, has chosen to remain by your side through every challenge he has faced. He cares about you Arthur, truly, and if you decide to banish him then you will make a fool of yourself and everything you've worked for."

Arthur was quiet for a moment. He sank onto the throne, head buried in his hands. "Of course I'm not going to banish him, Gaius." He gave a sardonic chuckle. "Apparently I wouldn't last a day without him, from what I've learnt today."

Gaius took a step towards him. The candles had burnt out and deep shadows nestled in the concaves of the room, scattering across the floor and turning the physician's hair a placid silver. "I cannot begin to imagine how you are feeling," he began. "But I have known you for a very long time, Arthur."

"You are not my court advisor."

"No," Gaius agreed softly. "I'm simply an old man who cares a great deal about you."

Arthur let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. His hands trembled in his lap and he curled them into fists, nails digging painfully into his palms, forming scarlet crescent moons to replace the one missing from the sky. When he lifted his head, Gaius was there, a harbour in the storm, and Arthur felt every inch the battered ship, lost and betrayed by those bound to protect him.

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to do," he whispered, sinking into Gaius' embrace. "And I know I cannot ask you to speak against Merlin, nor stand by me, because he is like a son to you, and I of all people cannot ask you to break the bond between a father and his son."

"Thank you." Gaius studied him. "You are a good man, Arthur Pendragon, with a kind heart. Merlin saw that all along, even when others did not."

"Bloody _Merlin_," Arthur sighed. "Gaius, I don't think you realise what I'm struggling with here. My problem is not that Merlin has magic, but that he kept it a secret for so long." Gaius raised his lone eyebrow of doom. "I am not an idiot, nor I am completely oblivious." He paused, recognising the irony of his words. "Well. Other than the obvious. But my point is that I saw the suffering many experienced under my father's reign and I think you suspected that I had my doubts."

"The druid boy," Gaius noted.

"Exactly." Arthur met his gaze squarely, uncertainty swimming in his agonised expression. "Where do I go from here?"

Gaius heaved a sigh. Not the for the first time Arthur realised that the physician was beginning to show his age, with a weariness about him that was the result of a lifetime's burden of witnessing friends' and families' murders at the hand of a man he had vowed to serve. Arthur couldn't begin to comprehend what a weight like that must feel like.

"Magic," Gaius began slowly, "is not inherently evil, nor is it purely good. It is like your sword – it is the wielder's intention that gives it its purpose, be that destructive or to protect the innocent. Merlin has used his magic for good, or to provide the best possible outcome in any given situation. This is a heavy burden to bear and I can assure you that he has come very close to revealing it to you many times in the past." He bowed his head. "I am afraid that I was the one to persuade him otherwise, and if I am the cause to drive the pair of you apart then…well." He laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Remember, Arthur, a half cannot hate that which truly makes it whole."

Arthur gave a short bark of laughter. "What is with everyone and speaking in riddles today?"

"It must be the time of year."

Gaius patted his shoulder once more and headed back to his chambers, robes swishing in his wake. Arthur remained on his throne, tiredness playing at the corners of his vision and depositing a deep ache in his bones. Despite the weariness he couldn't bring himself to return to his rooms where everything would remind him of Merlin, and instead headed up to one of the turrets. The guard on duty gave him a sharp nod, wisely holding his tongue, and Arthur left him behind in the firelit staircase.

The skies were still clear revealing a star-studded swash drenched in secrets and far-off tales that Arthur imagined could invoke awe in even the wisest of advisors. He hadn't appointed an official advisor yet, and while he had tried to persuade himself that this was because he hadn't found the right person for the role, he knew all too well that the true reason was because there was only one man to whom he turned for advice, no matter what the situation, and that man was Merlin. Merlin, who had magic, the one thing Arthur had been told was so abhorrent that it should be eradicated from the land to the point of executing young children.

Arthur was struck by the thought that Merlin had been born with magic, according to his description of warlock. Merlin could very well have been one of those young druid children who had sat sobbing in Camelot dungeons, minds afflicted with memories of the prince's sword at the necks of their parents. He had never questioned Uther's orders, despite the nagging doubt at the back of his mind that this was _wrong_; the druids were peaceful and had never raged attacks upon the castle. All they had ever wanted was to practise their healing magic in the depths of the land.

He leant forwards, the night air prickling at his bare skin. Sometimes he wondered whether the guilt would ever leave him.

"My lord," the guard at the top of the staircase murmured. "Perhaps you should get some rest."

Arthur stifled a yawn. "Probably," he admitted, clasping a hand to the man's shoulder in gratitude as he passed. The stairs swam in front of him, a sign that he was definitely sleep-deprived, and he fell into bed with a groan, stripping off his clothes with a mental note to shower in the morning and order some clean sheets while he was at it.

He tried not to think about the fact that was his manservant's job.

_Merlin. How could you do this to me?_

* * *

"You're avoiding him."

Merlin gave a good-natured sigh and returned to staring miserably up at the cold blue of the sky above. A sharp crunching came from his right as Gwaine took another bite of the apple after slicing parts off with his ever-present knife. Lancelot was out on patrol, which left his gregarious fellow knight on the self-dubbed 'Merlin Watch', but while Lancelot allowed Merlin the gratuitous silence, Gwaine was alive with nervous energy and filled the air with words.

"Maybe," Merlin finally relented. Gwaine gave a broken cheer, sliding off the crumbling bricks to land on the damp grass next to his friend. Merlin closed his eyes, turning his face away. He was not in the mood for social interaction. Besides, it was too early – the sun had barely risen above the treeline. One had to be surprised that Gwaine was even awake.

"You should speak to him. Really, it's driving us all crazy, the pair of you pining after each other."

"I'm not _pining_."

"It sure looks like it."

Merlin huffed. "Well, I'm not. But Arthur's _such_ a clotpole, he's probably forgotten that he left his occasion shirt in the spare room because its warmer in there, and that he doesn't like the bread Marie makes, only the one from the bakery in the lower town which is ridiculous because he's the _king_. And when he opens the window in the morning he always sneezes twice and I still don't know why and he'll have forgotten to send for new sheets, even though it's a Wednesday so he should have done, and his chainmail will need attending to, and…" Gwaine was smiling at him. "What? Why are you grinning at me? It's disturbing."

"Thanks mate." Gwaine prodded him with one foot. His shoes were once again discarded. "Are you even hearing yourself? Classic pining, right there." He snorted. "Don't look so surprised, Merlin, the pair of you have practically lived in each other's pockets and that's just since I've known you." He settled back against the wall, talking through a mouthful of apple. Merlin turned his gaze away. That was an image he didn't need to see. "You need each other."

"You sound like someone else I know."

"Must be a wise man."

"Not really, I spend most of my time wanting to strangle him."

Gwaine snickered. "Definitely my kind of person."

A lull in the conversation settled across them. Merlin closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of life around him, eyes glimmering gold beneath closed lids as he slipped into his magic just to hear that little bit further. Horse hooves clipped the cobblestones as people began setting up their stalls in the market in the lower town for the day. Laughter and warm voices sprinkled the air with excited energy, sparrows pecking at the scraps of grain and skittering amongst the traders' feet. A group of young children skipped amongst the swaying fabrics, hands powdered with dust and flour, the scent of freshly baked bread filling the air. The distant chime of a bell rang out across the rising and sloping of the hills, rabbits kicking up scraps of grass in their wake. Skylarks soared in the sky above, the gentle swaying of trees calling a song amongst the clouds. Merlin revelled in the chorus of the world and let himself simply breathe.

"Merlin?"

Merlin jolted back to his senses, gold dissipating from his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Are you alright?"

"Not really."

Gwaine hummed, tossing his apple core into the bracken. "Can I ask you something?"

"If I say no, you'll ask anyway, so go ahead."

"Why did you never tell me?" A cricket chirped. "Lance knew, didn't he?"

"Yes. He found out by accident, when we were fighting a griffin." Merlin sat up. "I guess hiding it just became habit after a while. Plus, you never gave me any indication as to how you felt about magic."

"Merlin, mate, I get into bar fights for _fun_, you know I don't have any respect for the law, let alone _Uther_." Gwaine was unusually quiet for a moment. "I had this friend once. Nice chap he was, originally from some tiny fishing village by the sea. He didn't like to talk about his past, and well, I'm not exactly an open book, so I never pushed him." Merlin had a horrible feeling that he knew where this story was headed. "We were having a few drinks one day, wrong tavern, wrong time, wrong drink, you know how it is. Long story short, things got pretty nasty and I ended up with an arrow in my leg. Not fun. Anyway, I thought I was done for, when there was this _warmth_, so I looked round and his eyes were glowing."

"Magic?"

"Magic," Gwaine confirmed. "He only ever used it for good, healing and such, but Uther had him killed. There was nothing I could do."

"Gwaine, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. My point is that I would have stood by you, like I will now, but also that Uther killed him without hesitation. You're still alive, Merlin. Arthur will come around."

"But when?"

Gwaine hesitated. "You know what you need, my friend? A drink. To the tavern it is."

* * *

Arthur had never realised how deeply entwined his life and Merlin's were until the younger man was no longer around. George, whilst entirely competent at his job and loyal to a fault, was fundamentally boring, and didn't correct Arthur or call him out on 'behaving like a prat' as Merlin would have put it. Elyan commented that he was going through the Five Stages of Grief, as Arthur lunged at him with a practise sword at training, causing the king to stumble and plunge his sword into the ground. Haunting memories of such an action on a bloodied battlefield next to Merlin almost had him collapsing, but instead he gripped the training blade and fell back into a defensive stance, ready to go another round.

"Still in mourning, I see," Leon was one of the few knights who could get away with speaking to him in such a manner, simply because Arthur had grown up and fought alongside him. Before Merlin, Leon had been Arthur's one true friend, standing by him but pointing out Arthur's flaws in a calm and level voice. Constructive criticism always had been the elder knight's forte.

"I've already heard that one from Elyan."

"I know," Leon responded in turn. "I was the one who told him."

Arthur sighed, tearing his chainmail off with more vigour than was strictly necessary. "What do you want, Leon?"

"For you and Merlin to speak."

"He has magic."

"And yet here he is, not only still alive but still in Camelot. He is literally living less than five minutes' walk from your chambers. Doesn't that tell you something?"

"If this is a case to determine my incompetence then I don't want to hear it."

"Arthur. I think you and I both know that the issue here is not the fact that Merlin has magic, but that he kept it hidden from you for so long. I cannot speak for your view on magic, but Merlin used it for good."

"He killed people."

"So have we! Every time we go out and fight, we do the same thing. The only difference is that we run men through with a sword rather than magic."

Arthur rested his forehead against the wall. The stone was cool and offered precious relief from the pounding headache he had forming. "I had no idea you were so fond of him."

Leon smiled. "It's Merlin," he answered simply, as if that were reason enough. The strange thing was, Arthur completely understood. "I'll leave you to it, my lord."

Arthur watched the door bang shut behind him. "Damn you Leon."

* * *

Losing Merlin felt like losing a part of his soul. Arthur found himself at the very highest point of the castle most nights, leant out over the abyss, caught between the light of the stars and dark of the fall. It was a position he had never thought he would find himself in, because throughout his life he had been a fighter, the heir to the throne of Camelot who couldn't afford to let anyone close, but then there had been Merlin, and everything had changed.

Arthur found himself turning to discuss something with Merlin, reaching out in the morning to find the room empty and the fire already lit, George having left. Gaius appeared to be kept busy, and the only glimpses of his ex-manservant that Arthur had caught was of the younger man delivering medicines to the elderly nobles throughout the castle. Lancelot was distant at training, his mind evidently elsewhere, with Gwaine full on skipping sessions. The Round Table was metaphorically fractured, and Arthur had no idea where to begin to repair it.

It wasn't that Arthur didn't believe in Merlin. He wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him so badly that it hurt like a physical ache in his chest. His entire life he had only ever seen magic used for bad, and a lifetime of brainwashing from Uther's opinions was a hard thing to shake. Yet Arthur was beginning to understand that his father hadn't been so strong – he had been _afraid_.

"_You miss him." _Elyan had stated.

Arthur bowed his head, starlight playing across his outstretched hands. "Yeah, I do." Merlin was gone and the king was lost without him. For all the tragedies that had befallen Camelot over the years, they had been the duo to fix them. There was no Arthur without Merlin, but, according to the whispered rumours of pale skin and dark circles of exhaustion, there was no Merlin without Arthur either.

"_You need each other, so buck up and go get him back._"

"_Don't you see? I can't."_

"_No, you're still obeying Uther. He is not the king who I chose to follow, nor he is the man I believe in to do the right thing. We're here for you, Arthur. This is your kingdom now. Trust in yourself."_

How was he possibly meant to change everything for one man, especially when he had seen Merlin use his magic to kill as well?

A movement caught his attention. A cloaked figure darted across the courtyard, slipping out of the gates without a single reaction from the guards. Arthur had some serious questions about the reliability of their night-time security. He tried to return his thoughts to the decisions he had to make but his curiosity got the better of him and with his cloak draped across his shoulders he saddled his horse and set off into the night.

Perhaps a part of him had known the stranger was Merlin from the very beginning. Still, Arthur remained quiet, lain close to the ground, chin propped on a protruding tree root. The trees rustled above him, faint scuttling sounding from the nocturnal creatures of the wood. He subconsciously tightened his cloak around him and focussed his sights on Merlin.

Merlin was crouched at the edge of a lake, palms outstretched above the silvery waters. He seemed strangely at peace, as though the natural world accepted him as one of their own far more than humanity ever had. The sand filtered through his fingers, cascading across the water to cast ripples out across the lake. Water slowly lapped at the shore, teasing at the edges of Merlin's cape, and he settled down with a weary sigh.

"Arthur, I know you're there."

Arthur hesitated.

"I don't mind. You can go, and I won't say anything but if you want…we could talk?"

Leaves crackled under his shoes to be replaced by the soft crunch of sand. Merlin didn't look up as Arthur sat down next to him, the lake caressing the soles of his shoes.

"I should hate you."

"I wouldn't blame you."

Arthur pinched the brim of his nose. "Damn you, Merlin. Why can't I…"

"I'm sorry for lying to you." Merlin lifted his head, eyes tainted silver in the moonlight. He was paler than usual and gaunt, looking as though he'd been ill, and Arthur's stomach clenched. "But I'm not sorry for having magic, because-"

"Because it wasn't your choice?" Arthur finished. Merlin appeared shocked. "Yes, I know, the whole _warlock_ thing. What I don't understand is why you stayed."

"For you." Merlin stared earnestly at him. "I stayed for you because I believed in you. Somewhere beneath the whole _prat _thing you had going on I saw that you were different. Everything after that…"

"Us becoming friends was not part of the plan, I suppose?"

"There was no plan other than to protect you. But becoming your friend, that was entirely genuine, and I don't regret it for a second."

Arthur chuckled. "You're a mystery, Merlin."

"If I'm your mystery, then you're my destiny." Merlin's hands hovered uncertainly above Arthur's, anxious tremors scuttling across his shoulders. "Can I show you?"

Arthur couldn't help the instinctive recoil, but this was _Merlin_, and after so many years of friendship and protection, despite the lie, Arthur felt as though he owed him this much. He nodded. "Go ahead."

Merlin's eyes glinted, deep pools of molten gold that were as captivating as they were frightening. The ancient words that dusted the air were accompanied by a soft glow between his closed palms, and Arthur leant forwards, breath caught in his throat as Merlin parted his hands. A single silver butterfly unfurled its wings, iridescent rainbows scattering across its tiny body before it fluttered up, dancing along the breeze. Arthur lifted his hand and the butterfly landed on his fingers, humming with magic, pure and good, and Merlin reached across, gently laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Arthur? You're crying."

Arthur stared at him, eyes wide with wonder. "It's _beautiful_." His voice brimmed with emotion. "And it's _magic."_ Merlin slumped forwards, eyes flooding a deep oh-so-familiar blue, and Arthur caught him on the way down. The butterfly flitted between them, soft wings brushing against Merlin's hair before it was off to join the stars on the wind.

"I'm sorry," Merlin was whispering, eyes filled with tears. "I never wanted to…Arthur, believe me, I couldn't…"

"You were going to tell me." The realisation was sudden, crashing down on Arthur in a wave. "Before the attack, you said you weren't ready to tell me your secret, but that you would soon. You were talking about your magic."

"Can you forgive me?"

"Merlin." Arthur sat up, looking every inch the royalty that he held. "I already have."

It was as though the worlds had shifted, falling into place as the new balance settled, peace enveloping the land in a blanket. Merlin continued to create and reveal his magic, helping Arthur to understand the purity of something he had feared for so long.

"Will things be different in the morning?" Merlin's voice was tight with unspoken fear.

Arthur smiled. "I sure hope so." He glanced across at his friend. "I'm sorry, Merlin, for everything."

"Don't be. The past is the past."

"Just let me, alright?" Arthur sat up, their shoulders brushing as the lake shimmered in front of them. "It's going to take me some time to get used to this."

"I know."

"I'll still need a manservant."

"You have George."

"Don't be _ridiculous_ Merlin." Merlin laughed. Arthur shot him an affectionate smile. "I've missed that."

"I'm not going anywhere, you know."

"I certainly hope not, I have the position of Royal Advisor that needs filling."

Merlin blinked. "What?"

"I can't change things overnight, Merlin. I wish that I could. The kingdom has feared magic for such a long time now, it will take them a while to get used to it again."

"You're going to make magic legal?"

"Obviously I am, you _idiot_."

"Arthur?"

"Yes?"

"Just…thank you."

Arthur glanced up at the stars. For the first time in a long while, he felt truly at peace with the world, and he knew it had something to do with the man sitting beside him.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Let's go home."

* * *

**_You know what would make me very happy? If you left a review ;)_**

**_Kat x._**


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